Things That Probably Happened at Some Point
by thatmeddlingkid
Summary: A trip through the dumbest, wackiest, and all-around craziest parts of history with the Hetalia cast. Full of crack and rated for language.
1. England Gets a Mouthful

**Rated for strong language and over-description.**

After having spent a long day working at his government office, and an even longer evening cradling a drink at his favorite pub, England was finally returning home. In his tired state, he failed to notice that the front door of his small London flat had been kicked in and clumsily put back in place. He did, however, notice the six figures standing in the middle of his living room. France, Romania, Norway, Japan, America, and Canada were lined up under a large banner reading "INTERVENTION" in giant block letters.

England blinked his eyes, taking it all in. "I know what you're all thinking," he began slowly, "I can stop drinking anytime I want."

"England, no," France replied with a shake of his head, "This isn't about your rampant alcoholism. It's about your teeth."

"Oh, bloody hell," England groaned, "Not this again. How many times do I have to tell you, there is nothing wrong with my teeth!"

"Have you looked in a mirror?" America loudly interjected, "Your mouth looks like a rusty chainsaw."

"I happen to think that slightly crooked teeth add a bit of character," England snapped.

"If crooked teeth add character," Canada quietly responded, "Then your mouth is a fucking cast lineup." The North Americans snickered and high-fived each other.

"You know, insults are probably not the best way to convince someone to do what you want."

France shot a glare at the brothers before turning back to England, "Please, mon ami, it's for your own good."

"For my own good?" England scoffed, "Please, you're just angry because I didn't want to try your stupid dental implants."

"England, you are literally the only nation who hasn't gotten your teeth fixed," Norway stated evenly, "We set up this intervention because the rest of us can't stand looking at them."

"What's the big deal? For the longest time, all of you had the same teeth as me. Why is it suddenly an issue?"

Romania stepped forward and placed a hand on England's shoulder. "Remember in the 1300's when we got hit with the bubonic plague?" The rest of the Europeans nodded in affirmation.

"Remember how there were people dying left and right and the streets piled up with bodies and it always smelled like rotting corpses?" England nodded once again, unsure of where this was going.

"Remember how we got used to the smell, because it was all we experienced for years on end, and then we visited Poland, and we got to see what it was like not living in a cesspool of death all of the time?" England just stared at him, a small frown forming on his face.

"But then we had to go back home, and the smell was so much worse because we forgot about it when we were gone."

"Is this supposed to be a metaphor for something?" England asked impatiently.

"Ah, yes," Romania answered, "You got me. It is a metaphor. You see, when the rest of us got our teeth fixed, we were moving to Poland, one by one. But you never got your teeth fixed, so you represent the rest of Europe. Now, when the rest of us interact with you, it's like having to go back home and remembering what a horrible, smelly wasteland we live in. It's your mouth. Your mouth is the smelly wasteland."

"Yeah," England grunted, "I think I got that."

"I mean seriously, dude," America pleaded, "Do you even brush your teeth?"

"Ha," England laughed with a wicked smirk, "I got you there. I happen to brush my teeth every day."

"With what?" America asked, "Motor oil?"

"Go see for yourself if it concerns you so much," England pointed down a hallway, "The bathroom is the second door on the right." As America disappeared down the hallway, the rest of the nations turned back to England.

"When was the last time you went to see a dentist?" Canada asked quietly.

"Mm," he thought for a moment, "That's a trick question."

"What? No, it's… How it that a trick question?"

"The last time I went to the dentist for my teeth or to get my hair cut?"

"To get your hair cut?" Canada repeated as he placed his head in his hands, "Jesus Christ."

"England," America called from the bathroom, "What the hell is this?" He returned to the living room holding a small jar of black paste.

"It's my own creation," England answered with a proud puff of his chest, "My stores don't sell it anymore, so I have to make it myself. It's a mixture of ground crystal, rock salt, marble, glass, snail shells, and white wine."

"And I thought your food was the worst thing you put in your mouth," France gagged, "Why on earth would you think that would clean your teeth."

"Clean my teeth? Goodness, no. That's not what my toothpaste is for. It's meant to _blacken_ my teeth."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Norway asked incredulously.

"Isn't it obvious? So people will know that I can afford to buy all of the sweets I want."

The nations stared at him in silence for a moment until Canada turned to whisper something to America.

"Oh, right!" he said before pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket, "Australia couldn't make it, so he wrote this letter for us to read to you." America unfolded the paper and cleared his throat.

" _Dear England, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your intervention. You should know that it was not my decision, but rather my prime minister's. You see, right now we are preparing to host the Summer Olympics, and as such, we are taking extra precaution in regards to our national quarantine. Now, I don't know if you've noticed, mate, but when you start spitting the dummy, you actually spit. Literally. It gets all over the place. And I mean this in the absolute best of ways, but we're pretty sure that your mouth is septic, like a Komodo Dragon. I really wish I could be there, and you should know that I am definitely there in spirit, but I just can't risk bringing home some deadly bacteria right before the Olympics. You understand. Your mate, Aussie. P.S., New Zealand is also in support, but he decided not to go because he says that your breath smells like a sheep's arse and he already deals enough with that at home."_

England stood before the nations, his arms crossed and his mouth in a straight line. "So," he began, his voice dangerously quiet, "Is that really how it is?"

"Mr. England," Japan spoke up for the first time, "If I may say something."

England flipped his hands in the air in a gesture of indifference.

"I'm not sure if you know this," he began quietly, "But I used to do a lot of crystal meth, and I mean a _lot_."

"Man," America cried out, "I remember that! That shit was fucked up."

"Yes," Japan agreed, "It was. We took it during World War 2 so we could work for long periods of time without eating or sleeping, and then after the war ended, we took it so we would have the energy to rebuild our country. I did so much meth, that if I wasn't a country, I would have died at least seven times." America vigorously nodded his head in agreement.

"Japan," England interrupted, clearly uncomfortable, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Mr. England, when I did that massive amount of meth, I met a massive amount of meth heads, most of them with awful, rotting teeth, because that's what happens when you do meth. But out of all of those meth heads, not a single one had teeth as disgusting as yours."

"Wow," England replied bitterly, "That's pretty harsh. And rather hypocritical of you all for taking the piss out of me as if none of you have ever done anything disgusting."

"England," Norway interjected firmly, "When Sweden, Denmark, and I lived together as Vikings, we stored our food in barrels of human urine because it kept it fresh for longer. When it was time to eat, we just rinsed it off and cooked it."

"Oh my god," England cried out, "Is that even sanitary?"

"I don't know," Norway replied with a shrug, "But that still wasn't as disgusting as your teeth." The other nations murmured in agreement. America stepped forward.

"When we were exploring the western territories, all we had to eat were the animals we caught along the way. As it turns out, you can't live on an all-meat diet without fucking up your guts, so we had to take these crazy laxatives called thunderclappers. They were, like, sixty percent mercury chloride."

"And you all survived that?" England asked, his hands pushing through his hair. The other nations grimaced at the thought of it.

"The thunderclappers pushed everything out so fast, the toxins didn't have time to kill them." America answered with a chuckle, "There was so much mercury laced shit everywhere, they can _still_ find the trail we took. I lived like that for over two years, but it still wasn't as disgusting as your teeth." Once again, the other nations agreed.

"Okay, now you're just being mean."

"I used to eat meals with Vlad the Impaler _while_ he was impaling," Romania interjected animatedly, "He liked to have his victims arranged in fancy little patterns around his dinner table. Tell me England, do you what human flesh sounds like when it is ripping?"

"No, and you don't need to…"

"It sounds like Velcro," he shouted, his hands flying around dramatically, "Like that heavy duty Velcro you use for big projects around the house."

"Good lord, that's horrendous!"

"Yes, it was very disgusting, but it still wasn't as disgusting as your teeth."

"Come on," England shouted angrily. The nations watched in terror as a drop of spit flew from his mouth and dropped on the floor where it began sizzling slightly. "You have to be exaggerating! Are my teeth really that bad?"

"Oui."

"Ja."

"Hai."

"Totally."

"Da."

"Yep."

France stepped up to the disgruntled nation and placed a tender arm around his shoulders. "England please," he pleaded.

"Why do you even care, France? If my teeth so awful, isn't that a good thing for you? Seeing as how most people would be thrilled that their longtime rival is suffering as much as you seem to believe."

"I used to laugh about it," France admitted, "I saw it as some huge, proverbial battle between the beautiful good and the substantially less beautiful evil, but now I am simply an extremely handsome man who occasionally fights with a rotten-mouthed troll, and that's more than a little pathetic. Plus, as we've said before, the rest of us are suffering quite a bit every time you open that horrible trap of yours. People should at least be able to hear you speak before being repulsed." France removed his arm and turned around to look England straight in the eye. "Now, I am standing in front of you, and I'll kneel if I have to, but I am standing in front of you begging on behalf of every man, woman, child, and nation on this planet, for god's sake, go to the fucking dentist."

England looked around the room at the solemn faces of some of his closest friends and family and France. "Fine," he said with a defeated sigh, "I'll do it."

And so, after a bit of time and many, many dental procedures, England's mouth was made as good as new, with all of his rotten teeth pulled out and replaced with clean, white implants just in time for Australia's Olympics, which he, along with rest of the no longer permanently revolted nations attended joyfully. In time, he was even able to boast about having some of the best dental health in the world. Meanwhile, the rest of the nations who attended the intervention decided not to discuss the less than attractive facts about themselves, after agreeing that some things were best left in the past.

The end.

 **So obviously, this chapter was meant to poke fun at the completely awful state of dentistry throughout history. I used England simply because of the stereotype that the English have crappy teeth, which, as I pointed out at the end, is just not true.**

 **Now to explain a few things.**

 **Poland was relatively untouched by the Bubonic Plague, unlike the rest of Europe thanks to isolation.**

 **In the middle ages, barbers acted as doctors, dentists, and surgeons all in one.**

 **In Elizabethan times, it was popular to blacken your teeth to look rich.**

 **Australia hosted the summer Olympics in 1956, which is around when this is set.**

 **Crystal meth was invented in Japan, and used extensively by the Japanese for several decades. Don't do drugs, kids.**

 **The trip America is talking about is the Lewis and Clarke expedition.**

 **The Velcro thing I learned from a reputable source. Don't worry, though, no one was hurt permanently.**

 **Now, to clarify a bit, this fic will be a collection of one-shots, mostly making fun of certain historical incidents. Really, the idea behind it is asking "How would the characters of Hetalia react to these real-life events." I'm open to suggestions and requests, but remember that this fic is meant to be humorous. But of course, as you can probably tell, I'm also into black comedy. Really, my rule of thumb is it's alright to laugh at if everyone directly affected by it is dead. Also, I promise that most chapters will not be as gross as this one.**


	2. Sith Happens

Heavy boots stomped down the street as a heavy black cape swished dramatically in the breeze. Behind his respirator mask, Germany smiled as people jumped out of his way. It was nice being intimidating again after such a long time, even if it was only for the night. In fact, that was probably the best part about it. The next morning, Germany could wake up and go back to dealing with his normal problems that weren't the result of some dastardly plan to take over the world. But tonight, he was Darth Vader and it was nice to embrace the fake villainy.

Granted, Germany didn't know Darth Vader was a villain when he chose to dress as the character. During the last world meeting, he, along with several other nations were invited to see America's latest Star Wars movie. A few days later, he was sent a picture of a cast of characters, some of them crossed out, along with a note telling him to choose one and mail back a reply along with the picture. The tall, foreboding figure shrouded in black called to Germany, and he made his decision. Several more days later, he was sent the costume. Always one to do his homework, he rented the first three movies and watched them in preparation for this night. It was then that most people would have realized that his affinity for Darth Vader stemmed from the less than subtle references to Nazism. Unfortunately, Germany was not very good at reading social cues, nor was he the best judge of character, so the allegory sailed over his head leaving him somewhat confused at the Sith Lord's status as a legendary villain. In the end, Germany figured that as long as nobody was hurt, he could indulge in the respect he gained from wearing the costume.

Now here he was, drinking in the awed gazed of the passing New Yorkers as he made his way to the theater indicated in his invitation from America. Outside, he caught sight of a huge line spreading from the box office to… well, who knew? Germany paused for a moment and took off his helmet to get a better look at his surroundings. He wondered he he was ever going to find anyone when he heard his name being shouted above the crowd's noise. He turned to see a rather odd-looking bunch of costumers consisting of a Chewbacca with a pink scarf around his neck, a thick-browed Obi Wan Kenobi, a blond Han Solo with his shirt unbuttoned a bit too low, and an annoyed Yoda with his arms firmly crossed.

Right as Germany approached the group, he was tackled by a blur of gold. He struggled to untangle from his once badass cape only to find himself face to face with a babbling C-3PO. With an annoyed grunt, Germany yanked off the mask and glared at Italy.

"Germany, I'm so glad you made it!" Italy yelled with excitement. A soft beeping alerted Germany to an incredibly realistic R2-D2 right behind him. With a mechanical whirr, the top opened up to reveal a crouched Japan inside. Unceremoniously pushing Italy off of him, Germany stood back up and tried his best to dust off his costume.

"Hello, everyone," he greeted awkwardly, suddenly self-conscious about his attire, "You all look nice, though I have to say, Japan, you look especially…um…detailed."

"I take my cosplay seriously," Japan replied with an appreciative nod before closing the hatch of his costume again.

"Germany, you look so scary!" Italy whined, "Why did you pick the bad guy to dress up as?"

Sheepishly opened his mouth to answer when the Yoda pulled off his mask to reveal a pissed off China. "Wait a minute," he said with venom in his voice, "Are you telling me that you got to pick your costume?"

"Well, yeah," Germany replied, "Didn't we all?"

The rest of the nations nodded.

"What?" China exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, " _I_ didn't! What the hell? Why am I the only one stuck looking like a piece of chewed gum?"

"Relax," France smirked, "It's probably for the best. After all, not all of us can be intergalactic sex gods."

"Oh, please," England interjected with an eye roll.

"You know, England," France snapped back, "That fake beard is almost as bushy as your eyebrows."

While those two began bickering, China was still trying to get to the bottom of his less-than-desirable situation. "Russia, did you get to choose your costume?"

"Yes," the tall nation answered, his voice muffled by his shaggy costume, "America said I could be the big bear thing on the condition that I not say anything the whole night, because the big bear thing does not speak."

"America," China spat, "This is all his fault."

Germany looked around. "Where is America anyway? It seems a bit weird that he would invite us here and arrive late."

"There he is!" Italy pointed down the street at a bespectacled Luke Skywalker heading in their direction.

"Hey, sorry we're late," he said with a wave, "America was shaving his legs."

The nations wondered for a moment why he was talking in the third person before realizing that it was in fact Canada who stood before him. They looked over his shoulder to see America in a Princess Leia costume, complete with the long white dress and hair buns.

"Unfortunately," Canada continued, "he still doesn't make a very pretty woman."

"Excuse you," America gasped with offense, "I make a _beautiful_ woman."

Canada rolled his eyes and glanced at the group. "Just be happy he didn't go for the slave outfit."

"Canada, I am hurt," the other North American stated, his hand tapping over his heart, "I'm hurt in here, because it just tears me up inside seeing my own brother, my other half, so riddled with obvious jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Canada repeated, his eyebrows raising slightly with amusement.

"Yes, jealousy. You are clearly jealous because I got to dress as the better twin."

"America, you let _me_ pick which twin I wanted to be."

"I know! I presented you with a golden opportunity, a chance to finally be the better twin for once, and you just threw it away! Now you're stuck playing a wimpy, floppy-haired bitch. I would have thought you wanted a change."

"Well, _excuse me_ for not wanting to dress in drag!"

"Oh, I see what this is about." America finally acknowledged the other nations. "I'm sorry that you guys have to listen to the sexist rants of my jealous brother, who apparently thinks that because Leia is a woman, she can't be the coolest badass in the galaxy."

"That's not what I said and you know it."

"Yeah, you're right," he conceded with a shrug, "But I've still got this on you." America hitched up his dress to reveal his immaculately smooth legs. "Feel them," he insisted. To his disappointment, only France and Italy complied. His face lit up again when he received two impressed reactions.

"Germany, you have to feel how soft it is!"

"Nein!"

Thankfully, before America could talk anyone else into feeling up his leg, the line began to move forward.

"Holy shit, guys! It's almost time!"

"There are quite a lot of people here," England mused, "Are you sure we'll be able to get tickets?"

"No worries," America assured him with a grin, "I bought the tickets a week ago. I just had to camp out for a few days."

"Is that why you never answered any of my calls?" China asked angrily.

"No, I had my phone on me. I've just been avoiding you. Hey, speaking of tickets ..." America reached somewhere down the front of his dress and pulled out a handful of them. He passed one out to each person until he got to Japan who currently had no hands to take it with.

"Woah, Japan, your costume is awesome," America exclaimed, "Did you make it all by yourself?"

Japan responded in a series of unintelligible bleeps and whirrs.

"Oh, cool! Me too. These buns are a lot harder than they look. I'll just hold on to your ticket for you."

As the group moved closer and closer to the entrance of the theater, the crowd of excited Americans got even rowdier. America himself was practically vibrating with anticipation.

"Is he okay?" Germany asked Canada quietly, "I've never seen him like this."

"Don't worry about him," Canada replied, "He's just feeding off the energy of the crowd. Star Wars is a big deal here, for some reason. It's like a nerdy drug and America's been in withdrawal for over a decade. I just hope his expectations aren't too high."

Germany nodded, still slightly concerned.

At last, the time came for the group to take their seats in the middle of the packed theater. Germany had never seen a crowd this large and noisy before. At least not a sober one. The enthusiasm was infectious and soon Germany found himself cheering along. When the theater was finally full, the lights dimmed and everyone took of their masks to get a better look at the screen (except Japan, who simply opened his hatch). A hush swept over the crowd for a split second before the powerful opening bars of the theme music blasted through the speaker system inviting a deafening roar of excitement to sound throughout the theater.

Exactly 133 minutes later, the lights came back on. The group of nations sat in silence for a moment, thinking about what to say. Finally, Germany cleared his throat.

"Well that was…"

"Interesting." Japan finished for him.

"So," Italy began, "That little blond boy was you, Germany?"

"I guess so. I didn't expect him to be such a little shit." If he was being honest, Germany was kind of disappointed.

"Maybe we should cut him some slack," Canada reasoned, "I mean, if you were stuck as a slave on a desert planet your whole life, you might be a little shit too."

"That's true, "Germany conceded, "I don't like sand. It's course and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."

"He had quite a strange relationship with that queen…senator…that girl, didn't he?" England mused, "Was it supposed to be motherly or…?"

"I think it was supposed to set up a future romance," France answered.

"You think?" England asked, "Why would she show romantic interest in a nine-year-old when there was a perfectly good Ewan McGregor?"

"He was the best looking character in the movie, even with that disgusting haircut." Frances shoulders slumped. "I wasn't even in it!"

"I was!" Italy exclaimed happily, "Germany made me!"

"I can't help but think that was just added in to please people regardless of its relevance to the plot," Japan added, "The same could be said for the R2-D2 appearance." The nations all nodded thoughtfully.

"Well," Canada said, clapping his palms together, "I think we can all agree that the absolute worst part of this movie was Jar-Jar Binks."

"Oh, definitely," England agreed.

"How did he get a delegate position?" France asked incredulously.

"His voice made me want to stab myself in the stomach again," Japan admitted.

"The most obnoxious thing I've ever seen, and I live with Prussia," Germany stated firmly.

"I don't know," Italy said, "I thought he was funny." The rest of the nations gave him a look of disbelief and shook their heads.

"Now I know what toys the child workers in my factories are going to be making for the next few years," China sighed.

"I don't understand," Russia said, the others jumping in surprise, "What are midachlorans? Do they control the force or are they the force or…oh, I'm sorry, America, I forgot about the no speaking thing. What I meant to say was RRRAAAWWWRRR!"

It suddenly occurred to the nations that America had not said a word since before the movie began. They turned to look at him and saw him still sitting in his seat, his mouth hanging open and his eyes still glued to the empty movie screen.

"Hey, America," Canada called with a small nudge on his shoulder, 'Are you alright?"

"It was about trade disputes," America said softly, his voice devoid of emotion, "It was about tax laws and blockades and trade disputes. It was supposed to be about restoring balance to the universe. There was supposed to be an epic fight of good versus evil, not senatorial debates. Movies are supposed to lift you out of reality to worlds full of dinosaurs and superheroes and awesome space battles. If I wanted to experience corrupt politicians, confusing governments, and FUCKING TRADE DISPUTES, I WOULD HAVE STAYED. THE FUCK. HOME!"

The others winced at his sudden yelling. When he was done, America slumped back down into the seat, his face reverting back to its emotionless mask. With a defeated sigh, he stood up and turned towards the nations. He smiled sheepishly at them. "Welp, sorry that was a bust," he apologized with a mirthless chuckle, "Thanks for coming anyway. I'm going home." At that, America promptly turned around and headed out the door. A second later, Canada ran after him, yelling about being forgotten.

"Is he going to be alright?" Italy asked frowning.

"He'll get over it, I'm sure of it," England replied, not sounding very sure at all.

The rest of the nations shared awkward goodbyes before leaving the theater, each one feeling rather underwhelmed.

As it turns out, England was right, sort of. By the next world meeting, America was back to his normal, loud self. Canada claimed it was because he stuffed his emotions deep down inside where nobody could see them and use it against him, but Germany wasn't sure if a single bad movie would really warrant such a reaction. Germany also didn't know the extent of America's love for Star Wars. When the following movies came out, Germany chose to see them alone in his own country, mostly because he wanted an excuse to wear his Darth Vader costume in public.

The end

 **China was stuck playing Yoda because he was the last one picked. He might have liked the character if he had seen the movies, but he never did.**

 **When it first came out, Star Wars was a cinematic phenomenon that reached international popularity. It has reached such high levels of recognition that it's a permanent part of American culture and continues to be one of the most successful commercial franchises in the world. However, despite its continuous popularity, the prequel trilogy is largely regarded as the worst part of the franchise.**

 **Even now, people still lose their shit over Star Wars. When the seventh movie released at the movie theater I work at, they had over 11,000 people show up in a single weekend. I know because we have a fancy plaque hanging next to the box office. The movie premiered about a month before I was hired, so I never got to experience the legendary "Star Wars Weekend". Apparently, they showed the movie non-stop from early Thursday morning to late Sunday night. They still talk about it like it was the Vietnam War.**

 **Anyway, sorry if this chapter was boring to some of you. I know not everyone's a Star Wars fan. I myself have only seen four of the movies. I'm still taking suggestions for future chapters.**


End file.
